


when the lights go down

by PookaHooves (Esoterical)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Stiles, Canon-Typical Violence, Demon Stiles Stilinski, Drabble Collection, Gen, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2014-07-05
Packaged: 2018-02-07 14:42:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1902882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esoterical/pseuds/PookaHooves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Linked drabbles and one shots featuring Demon!Stiles with eventual Sterek.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> New to tagging, sorry for any mess ups. This collection will be writing exercises for myself and hopefully they help!

If Stiles sees the bodies strewn around him, Derek doesn't know. What he does know is that the air is heavy with the scent of blood from the dead hunters. The teen is sitting on a crate in the middle of the warehouse. Red hoodie, jeans, and sneakers, and in this lighting they appear dirty but are definitely streaked with something gruesome. The end cap of the baseball bat, decorated with blood, is being spun around on the floor by the knob with dexterous fingers.

Stiles glances up —  _smiles._

His eyes are an inky black.

“Hey, sourwolf. Like my present?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek and Stiles talk, briefly.

Thinking back to a few nights ago when Derek had found Stiles surrounded by dead hunters, all of which upon further investigation proved to have been either clawed open or had their windpipes bitten out. What unnerved him was that there were other marks on the bodies and he had no idea what they were. Long serrated slashes that went diagonally, and even one of the hunter’s weapons bore the same mark. The gun was literally sheared in half.

After greeting Derek, Stiles had blinked his black eyes away and looked around him with a somewhat guilty expression.

“Sorry, I –“

Stiles’ words had been cut off by Derek saying “You should go home, the others will be here soon.”

Almost gratefully the teen (or whatever he really was) had pushed off the crate, nearly tripping over himself as he did so.

“So, later?” Stiles edged away, taking care not to step on a corpse’s outstretched hand.

Derek levelled him a look, wondering what exactly Stiles was and wanting to voice all his questions and accusations but Isaac and Scott would be coming very soon.

“We’ll be talking and you’ll be telling me what you are,” he growled out, the wolf inside whining and uneasy at the sudden unknown in their pack.

“Aye aye, Alpha, sir,” Stiles sketched a quick salute before jogging out of the warehouse through a back entrance that Derek hadn’t noticed initially.

That was three nights ago and Stiles had been avoiding Derek as if the werewolf had the bubonic plague. All of that came to a halt when the teen walked into his room and saw Derek leaning against the wall by the window.

Stiles grimaced, shucking his school books onto the bed before straddling the computer chair. Derek eyed him carefully, seeing nothing threatening at all about him right now. Neither of them wanted to break the silence but eventually Derek ground out the question that had been on his mind.

“What are you?”

“I guess it’s too late to try to lie my way out, huh?” Stiles folded his arms on top of the back rest of the seat, placing his chin on his forearms. His eyes filled with black, so that the white was completely obscured. Derek had to fight not to let his claws slide out although his own eyes flashed a warning red.

Stiles laughed.

“I’m a demon, I always have been. Just like my mom. Dad knows.”

Derek glared him down until Stiles started fidgeting. Seems like some things never changed.

“I’m not. Not a threat. Not to the pack.” ' _No_ _t to you'_ , lay unspoken in the air between them.

In the past months, Derek and Stiles had gotten to know each other and there grew to be a level of comfort between both of them. Now everything felt too sharp, too tense. Like their fragile relationship was about to splinter.

“Please don’t tell anyone.” Stiles was sitting up now, eyes back to their normal amber mix, an open honest expression on his face. Derek took in the way Stiles’s fingers picked at imaginary threads on his shirt before sighing.

“Stiles, you can’t keep something like this from the others.”

“I know, just, give me a few more days?”

“Fine.” Came the terse reply and Stiles instantly looked relieved, as if a weight had lifted off his shoulders. Derek turned to leave, feeling the conversation to be over. He had one foot out the ledge when Stiles spoke up.

“Are we still on for movie night on Friday?”

Part of him wanted to say no, to be cruel, but Derek could smell the unhappiness and guilt in Stiles’ scent and hear the hopeful lilt in his voice.

“If your dad’s not going to be home, sure.”

“Yeah. Sounds good, dude. I’ll, uh, text you if anything changes.”

With that, Derek dropped out of the window and hit the ground running, still unsure what to make of Stiles as a _demon_ but not entirely unwilling to not give him a chance. 


End file.
